A little bit risky but full of love: An(Dre)a Spisto on creating work that defies definition
and being a queer, autistic, Latinx, caterpillar on the edge.
In this week’s instalment of Eccentricities, I sit down with An(Dre)a Spisto to chat about their upcoming show El Dizzy Beast (Soho Theatre), their show about a queer, autistic, Latinx, caterpillar on the edge. We discuss taking risks in your art, existing beyond definition and what it means to honour yourself and your audience.
Ellen: Your show El Dizzy Beast had really good success last year. How are you feeling about bringing it back?
An(Dre)a: I'm feeling really good. This is my third solo show, so I feel very much with this show that I did the best that I could to honour myself. I mean, when you see it, I think you'll also understand that I've set it up in a way that I'm also taking care of myself, even within the show.
Whilst I'm doing it, I allow it to be. I made the show to be in a way that I can take breaks, and I can honour myself and care for myself, even within the show itself. It’s also the show that's most like me, because it's the most bizarre one that I've done so far.
Ellen: Your work is quite experimental, and I don't just mean that in terms of form. You dip into lots and lots and lots of different approaches, styles, mediums. Do you ever find it difficult to explain your work to people? Do they think you’re too much?
An(Dre)a:That is what comes up a lot in my reviews - that I don't really exist within any category. One of my reviews said my work ‘smashes the category box into oblivion’. And I feel that is the biggest compliment that anyone could give me. The reason that we have these categorical boxes, I think, is definitely a part of society that is colonial and, and it has this idea of itself, that we can categorise humans in a specific way.
For me, being able to smash category boxes, and not fitting into a category box, and still being able to make work that has lot of challenges. Many people are like, ‘well, we don't know how to bill you’, or ‘we don't know where to put you’ kind' of thing. I’ve sometimes though, ‘well, maybe I should just go down one more specific route, whether it's drag or whether it's comedy, or whether it's live art’. But how are we ever going to transform the theatrical space, if we're not changing it?
Ellen: It feels as though there has been shifts in the creative industries that has enabled slightly more diversity onto stages and onto screen until lineups. But there is still a binary. It feels like you have to choose: you can either have the really experimental work, yeah. Or you can have diversity. Not both.
I think there's this notion that audiences will be to, to either freaked out or not get it. And I always think ‘maybe, maybe that's not the point of theatre is to get it. Maybe - and perhaps this is too radical an idea - theatre is designed to be experiential.
An(Dre)a: For me, it's really important that you don't have to think in my show, and there's nothing to get. I’m not trying to be intellectual about anything. There’s no hiding - it’s all out in the open.
Ellen: Do you ever feel that because your work grapples with neurodiversity, queerness, gender and being an immigrant, people come to your show sometimes expecting there to be this intellectual discussion?
An(Dre)a: People want there to be a very neat narrative about how I came to this country and how I deal with all the things I deal with. People expect a play. And my show isn't a play, I am playing.
My shows are very, very interactive, too. I'm in constant conversation with the audience. Playing with the audience is also also a way of honouring integrity of my experience.
I'm not going to ignore that you're there, you know. As a clown, everything is something that you share with the audience; you would never not share your experiences with the audience. And I think that ties a lot with me as an autistic person. Me being on stage and pretending that the audience isn't there? It doesn't work for me.
Ellen: Did you train as a clown, then?
An(Dre)a: I went to physical theatre school. I'm also very dyspraxic. When I got there, everyone had a completely different physical attitude than I did. I was quite floppy in form and shape of my body, like when I would create images and stuff. Going to a physical theatre school and being dyspraxic meant my shapes would come out wouldn't be as strong visually as the other students.
That’s why my teachers said ‘you're going to do so well at clowning’ because that is a space where you can wear anything that is a little bit off-beat is perfect. That’s exactly what you want. And then a lot of the people who were really perfect with their mind were really perfect with their skills. When it came to clowning. They had a terrible time. They couldn't access it. And then then and then that's when I realised ‘oh, wow, we're good at different things.’
If it wasn't for clowning, I would have been very lost in performance because couldn't find my place for such a long time.
Ellen: You seem very unabashed in your work. When you're on stage, the priority is honouring yourself and your work. Do you care what other people are thinking when they watch your art? Or do you care more that they are engaging
An(Dre)a: Yeah, of course, I do. I spend my whole life trying to work people out and trying to be cared, loved. I spend my I spend my whole time trying to figure out how to connect with others. I didn't really realise why that was the case until I had my autism diagnosis.
I do worry about what people think because, you know, I just want to be loved. I want to be part of the group, I want people to like my work and I want people to enjoy themselves. But at the same time, what I've learned the hard way, over many years, is I can't give people what they want, because that's an impossible task. So the only thing I can do is, have integrity with myself and find the most truest thing that I enjoy, and I find pleasure in. And the closer I get to that truth, the more people are affected by the work that I do.
Ellen: There’s such a need for joy right now. I think people have become so disconnected from themselves. They’re scared to have conversations with themselves that are tricky.
I think maybe as people who are outside dominant norms and systems and power structures, we have no choice but to have that dialogue. Because for us, there’s an inherent a constant tension between the world we live in and our existence, so we have to engage. What do you hope people take away from your show?
An(Dre)a: I just hope that people are just there and and they're present with me. And maybe they’ll discover what it feels like to be part of something, watching something - that feels a little bit risky but full of love.
Get your tickets for AND(DRE)A SPISTO: EL DIZZY BEAST at Soho Theatre 22 – 23 Feb 2023. For information about future performances you can also follow them.